Technological Advancement What is That
by Rantzilla
Summary: A story about how England is old and needs to get with the times, and it all starts with a can.


**Technological Advancement What is That**

I have a dilemma.

Yes, as strange as it is, I- the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland- have an issue.

I've traversed foreign seas in less-than-accommodating ships, I've downed the Spanish Armada, I've survived the Black Death, and I've even colonized a completely unknown land filled with savages.

_Yet I can't open a bloody can of Mountain Dew._

Seriously, what in the name of David Bowie IS this? The silver flip thing at the top.. what does it do? How do I drink from this? Do I _stab _it?

I found myself glaring at the soft drink in my hands, thrown to me moments before by an over-excited American who was now flipping the channels on his telly without a care in the world, sipping _his _Mountain Dew like a pro.

Now I was glaring at him instead.

Eventually, his molasses-filled mind processed my seething stare and he turned his head to me, smiling, and obliviously asking, "what's up, Arty?"

I opened my mouth to _tell _him what's what before I rethought it. He'd make fun of me wouldn't he? There's no bloody _way _I'm telling him that I don't know how to open a bloody can of bloody soda _knowing _that he'll most likely piss himself laughing.

"Nothing," I grumbled in response, retrogressing to glaring daggers at the innocent (yet diabolical) drink in my hands.

I waited until he turned back to the telly before I decided to solve the problem with my strength.

The next few minutes had me wrangling the soda like it was particularly difficult bag of chips that stubbornly refused to open. I bit it, pulled at the flippy thing with all my strength, stabbed it with a pair of scissors- all while America had his back turned, and then I tried throwing it at the wall (my last, desperate attempt).

When America looked over, I told him it had slipped.

He frowned and luckily decided to let it go and return to watching Spongebob, which left me to wallow in my piteous state of dehydration once more.

Then it was time for extreme measures.

As in spell-casting.

I had no cape to don or anything, so I wasn't really in the mood for it- but I had to try anyway! I'd conquer this cynical soft drink yet!

"_Shlafu aldif jahava kindo lifa totho,_" I started to murmur under my breath, holding an open palm over the top of the can and deciding to use a spell utilized by the ancient Mayans to break seals on tombs and such. "_Wilk niff taro kansir-_"

"England," I opened my eyes to find America staring at me in confusion (and a little humor, if I'm not mistaken... wanker), "what are you doing?"

"Nothing!" I blurted hurriedly, unable to help turning a deep shade of red, "it's a spell to detect poisons!"

He raised his eyebrows before his eyes widened in realization.

Then he snorted and started giggling like a madman.

_Wankerwankerwanker._

"You can't open it, can you?" he queried through snorts and giggles.

I scowled at him, resisting the urge to punch him in the face before I kind of just let the first thing that came to mind roll off my tongue, as I was unable to form a proper insult in my state of embarrassment.

In retrospect, that was the worst idea ever.

"Don't you just have chocolate milk I can have or something?"

The silence only lasted a few, sweet moments before America rolled off the couch and onto the floor- practically peeing himself in laughter, I scowled and glared for a few moments before I got fed up of hearings his relentless peals of laughter, so I picked up the soda and threw it at his head.

He caught it easily (much to my chagrin), wiping tears from his eyes as he sat up, still holding his stomach and gasping a little for breath.

I almost pouted, as I had been hoping he'd die of laughing suffocation.

"Watch carefully, old man," he told me, trying to be serious but failing miserably as a smile broke through his facade and he was giggling again, I just continued to glare indignantly as he said, "_this _is how you open a can of soda. Geez, get with the times old man!"

I gaped at him wordlessly as he began opening the wretched can of evil.

I AM WITH THE BLOODY TIMES.

"I am with the-!"

My sentence, however, was cut off by his flipping of the lid and the soda spraying in his face presumably by my rough handling of the can. Although I didn't really care about that at the time.

I was too busy pissing myself laughing.

* * *

END.

Har har. I got up to get a drink and then opened the fridge and stared at a can wondering why on Earth someone my age still doesn't know how to properly open one, then I came back and told Joey about it who then laughed at me and told me to write a story about it and I was like HECK YEAH.

Thanks for reading, y'all.


End file.
